Lifesavers for Latasha

As Latasha and I began this transplant journey, neither of us could’ve imagined any of the emotions, trials, and triumphs we would face. And believe me, there have been many, so many that just trying to unpack them is overwhelming.

For this update, I want to talk about something we all take for granted: independence.

What does independence really mean to an adult human? Think about that for a second.

Reflect on the many phases of your life, the ups and downs, the healthy and sick moments, and the traumas and joys that can be a high or debilitating depression. That’s a lot to unpack, right? Of course, it is; it’s what makes our lives so worthwhile and meaningful and complicated. It’s the beautiful messiness of it all. All of that experience allows us to be functioning and independent humans who take care of our families, careers, and hobbies, as well as being someone’s friend and loved one.

At some point in our lives, we take that for granted. We’re on autopilot, I suppose. But as we all know, the circle of life is one game in which we cannot beat the house.

But I digress once again. To my point, 65 days ago, Latasha walked into Cleveland Clinic with all those independent functions we all take for granted.

When we get up in the morning, we can all navigate the day by using the bathroom, cleaning ourselves, preparing and eating food, picking out an outfit and dressing, caring for and nurturing our family members, walking and driving to a store or work, cleaning the house, doing a hobby, engaging in adult activities (whatever those may be), and showering and preparing to do it all over again the next day.

These are all things Latasha could do one day, but the next time she woke up from surgery, she couldn’t do any of them. I have been thinking about the gravity of that for the past few weeks since she was released for local convalescent care here in Cleveland.

I am bringing this up to give an update worthy of my pontificating. Over the past several weeks, Tasha has shown her grit, resilience, and determination to get all those things back. Every day, she goes a little further, does a little more, and pushes herself to be the strong and amazing independent woman she has always been.

I am so proud of her. It hasn’t been easy. We have both struggled emotionally, physically, and mentally. Again, it hasn’t been easy; it’s been nothing but hard.

But as I’ve said before, life’s messy, and we are getting dirty up here.

Tasha’s medical visits are going very well. Each visit yields good lab, imaging, and clinical results. Everything is proceeding as it should and, for the most part, on schedule.

She is still suffering from nausea from the medications, but we’re hoping that subsides as a few medicines get adjusted with time.

If you’ve read this far, I would ask that you give yourself or anyone else who is healing from an injury or ailment grace and love because it isn’t easy. The human body is the most resilient machine ever created, but it can’t function without caring and feeding on the emotional, physical, and mental levels.

Until next time, friends. Thank you for all of your continued support.